Intimately Worded with Michelle

Tag: faithwalk

  • A Faith that Stays Present

    Early Mornings

    There are weeks when my work requires me to sit with people in places that are difficult to describe.

    Trauma. Grief. Relationships that have been bruised by years of disappointment. People trying to find their way back to themselves.

    I love my work. Deeply.

    But loving the work doesn’t mean it doesn’t take something out of me.

    So after a particularly tough, trauma-filled week, I have a little ritual I have come to appreciate: I wash my brain.

    I put on one of my favorite animated movies.

    Shrek.
    The Incredibles.
    Guardians of the Galaxy somehow made its way into the rotation too.

    And there is something about sitting there, knowing exactly what is going to happen, laughing at the same parts, letting my brain follow somebody else’s story for a couple of hours that does my heart well.

    It isn’t sophisticated.

    It isn’t particularly productive.

    And it isn’t therapy.

    It is rest.

    Maybe even a little brainwashing—in the best possible way.

    And then there are Sundays.

    Today, I went to church. I spent time with my children. We had brunch after church. I talked to my eldest in Virginia, who has apparently decided that his beard had run its course and shaved it off.

    And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I remembered that he is expecting his first baby in November.

    His first baby.

    My baby is having a baby.

    Life has a way of sneaking up on you like that.

    One minute you’re worrying about bills, work, clients, deadlines, the things you haven’t finished, the things you’re trying to build, the things you’re trying to release.

    And then somebody you gave life to is standing on the other side of the phone telling you that he’s preparing to become a father.

    And suddenly the things you were worrying about aren’t gone—but they’re no longer the only things occupying the room.

    Life is touching my heart in the greatest of ways.

    I’ve been thinking about that lately.

    About how easy it is to move from one week into the next without actually arriving.

    Sunday becomes Monday.

    Monday becomes Tuesday.

    Another session. Another note. Another email. Another responsibility. Another thing to figure out.

    And somewhere along the way, we can become so focused on surviving the next thing that we forget to notice what is already beautiful.

    But today felt serendipitous.

    Not because everything is perfect.

    Because everything isn’t.

    But because I was present enough to notice the good.

    The brunch.

    Church.

    My children.

    A shaved beard.

    A baby coming in November.

    A familiar movie waiting for me when the week gets heavy.

    These are not small things.

    Maybe they are the big things.

    And this has me thinking about faith.

    I’ve heard faith described as a shelter—something we run into when life becomes too much. And I believe there is absolutely a place for that kind of faith.

    Sometimes I need God to cover me.

    Sometimes I need somewhere to put the things I cannot carry.

    Sometimes I need to know that even when I don’t understand what is happening, I am not alone in it.

    But lately, I think I have a saving faith more than a sheltering faith.

    Not saving in the sense of expecting God to rescue me from every uncomfortable circumstance.

    Something deeper.

    A faith that saves me enough to stay.

    Stay present. Stay open. Stay hopeful.

    Stay soft. Stay connected to the people I love.

    Stay willing to believe that there can still be beauty after hard seasons.

    Sheltering faith gives me a place to hide when the storm comes.

    Saving faith, for me, feels like the kind that reminds me that I can eventually step back outside.

    It doesn’t promise me a life without trauma, disappointment, uncertainty or grief.

    It reminds me that those things don’t get to have the final word.

    Maybe that’s why my little rituals matter.

    Watching Shrek isn’t just watching Shrek.

    Going to church isn’t just going to church.

    Brunch with my children isn’t just brunch.

    Calling my eldest isn’t just a phone call.

    These moments become tiny declarations:

    I am here. I am alive. I am still becoming.

    There is still something to laugh about.

    There is still something to look forward to.

    There is still something being born.

    Literally.

    And maybe this is what I am learning as I enter another Monday:

    I don’t want to rush past my life on the way to the next thing.

    I want to notice the wins.

    I want to celebrate what is growing.

    I want to allow ordinary moments to touch my heart.

    I want to work hard without making work my whole life.

    I want to care deeply without carrying everything.

    I want to rest without feeling guilty about it.

    And I want a faith that doesn’t only shelter me from the world.

    I want a faith that helps me remain present enough to live in it.

    Because there will always be another Monday.

    Another hard week.

    Another client story.

    Another problem to solve.

    Another thing that needs my attention.

    But there will also be Sundays.

    There will be brunches.

    There will be children becoming adults.

    There will be beards shaved off for reasons I may never understand.

    There will be babies coming.

    There will be movies that make me laugh when my brain needs a break.

    There will be moments when life touches my heart in the greatest of ways.

    And I don’t want to miss them.

    So tonight, I’m grateful.

    Not because life has become easy.

    Because I’ve become more willing to notice that it is also beautiful.

    Being brave,

    Michelle 🌿

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.

  • His T-Shirts, Cuddles, and Coffee — Our Bodies Remember

    His T-Shirts, Cuddles, and Coffee — Our Bodies Remember

    Choose You

    There is a particular intimacy that comes with age—one that is slower, fuller, and unapologetically embodied. I wake up in his t-shirt again.

    It hangs off my shoulders, soft and oversized, brushing against skin that has lived. Skin that has stretched, healed, marked time. At this stage of life, nothing about my body is imaginary. Everything has a story.

    Our bodies tell our most intimate stories—

    the stretch marks, the tats, the birthmarks.

    The places where life pressed hard and didn’t apologize. The places where love once left and later returned.

    When he pulls me close, there is no scanning, no assessment. He affirms the deep valleys, the crooks, the life pain my body has held. His touch doesn’t avoid the tender places—it honors them. There is something profoundly healing about being touched without correction. About being desired without being edited.

    We cuddle like people who have nothing to prove.

    His body meets mine not with urgency, but with knowing. The kind of knowing that comes from grief survived, prayers whispered, and faith that had to mature before love could. His hand rests—not to claim, but to stay.

    The coffee brews quietly, like a benediction.

    Steam rises while we remain tangled, breathing each other in. In moments like this, I feel God close—not distant or judgmental, but present. I believe intimacy like this is holy. Not because it is perfect, but because it is honest.

    After 50, desire doesn’t disappear—it becomes discerning. It chooses safety. It chooses warmth. It chooses someone who understands that pleasure and pain often live in the same body. Someone who doesn’t rush past the scars but recognizes them as proof of survival.

    Faith has taught me this:

    God restores through gentleness more often than spectacle. Through mornings like this. Through affection that doesn’t demand transformation. Through love that says, you don’t have to tighten to be worthy.

    This kind of intimacy feels like redemption.

    Like being met exactly where I am—with reverence for the flesh that carried me through childbirth, heartbreak, longing, and prayer. Like God saying, I remember what you’ve endured—and I still call this good.

    So I stay in his t-shirt a little longer.

    I let my body soften. I let myself be held without shrinking. After 50, intimacy is not about becoming someone new. It’s about being loved as the woman you already are.

    And that—

    that feels like grace poured slowly, one quiet Saturday and/or Sunday morning at a time.

    XOXO,

    Michelle 💛

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle.

  • Love Does Not Require My Exhaustion, Only My Honesty

    by Michelle Tillman | Intimately Worded

    There’s a quiet kind of fatigue that can come from wanting to be loved well. It isn’t physical — it’s emotional and spiritual. It’s the weariness that shows up after you’ve overextended your heart just to be understood, after you’ve carried more of the emotional load than the relationship ever asked you to.

    But I’ve come to realize something sacred:

    Love does not require my exhaustion, only my honesty.

    That truth has become a balm for me. Honesty isn’t just about what I say — it’s how I choose to show up. It’s admitting when I’m tired, when I feel unseen, when I’m hoping for more depth. It’s saying, “I want a meaningful relationship,” without trying to earn one through over-effort or performance.

    There’s a kind of peace that only comes when you stop negotiating your needs. When you release the urge to chase clarity or beg for consistency. When you start trusting that the love meant for you will never confuse you, diminish you, or ask you to betray your spirit in the process.

    As we begin to heal with our own stuff, something shifts. We stop seeing love as a rescue and start seeing it as a reflection. We start realizing that the relationships around us mirror where we are internally — what we believe we deserve, how safe we feel within ourselves, and how deeply we’ve allowed grace to meet us in our healing.

    My journey now is about emotional healing and spiritual safety — finding a rhythm in love that doesn’t disrupt my inner calm. I want connection that feels like prayer: steady, honest, rooted in presence. The kind that honors the quiet work I’ve done to heal, forgive, and grow.

    When someone fades away, or blocks, or simply doesn’t have the depth to meet me — I breathe. I remember that peace isn’t the absence of longing; it’s the presence of alignment. I remind myself that my worth doesn’t rise or fall with someone’s ability to recognize it.

    So I’m learning to love differently — without rushing, without rescuing, without rehearsing who I think I need to be. I’m letting honesty, not exhaustion, lead the way.

    Because love that is divine, grounded, and true doesn’t demand my striving.

    It welcomes my stillness. It meets me where I am,

    and says: You are safe here.

    Be Brave,

    Michelle🌿

    “I have found the one whom my soul loves.” — Song of Solomon 3:4

    Intimately Worded | Sunday Reflections

    What would it look like for you to love without exhaustion — to let honesty, not effort, guide your connections?

    SelfLove enables better choices.

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • Spiritual/Self-Independence: Unlearning

    Bone Deep: Self-Acceptance

    In my thoughts…I think this health struggle has thrown me back into the mentality of struggling, of always having to fight. I’m forgetting a lot of my structural things: forgetting to wear my mask consistently and wondering why everyone is staring at me; driving anxiously—having to concentrate on where I am going, budgeting/being really frugal because I’m frightened of not knowing yet anticipating the good of things. I hope that makes sense. I’m exhausted after errands, after a full day of work…when those things were easy for me. Socially, I’m inept, depleted.

    I had gotten into the self-care thought pattern of going to the gym; looked forward to it. Thursday was a true struggle. I went yet I did not see the point in going in that moment. I’m losing weight…my favorite pajama pants fell of me while I was walking. I worried first, then laughed I still haven’t thrown them away. They are laying across my bed. I remain, faithfully in #transition.

    No, I don’t have physical symptoms. There is no lump; only the knowledge that there is something there. My struggle is not only mental—the spiritual aspect of it has me reverting to, “Why now?” I stopped asking, “why me” as a teen. As I mature spiritually, I believe God’s love for His son personifies His love for us; He endured so much more.

    I trust God’s divine timing —He is at His best…even when I think He’s got me in the valley of things. I’m rereading past writings with wonder and questions that turn me towards my relationship with Him. I do not feel distant. I feel a little lost with the how; the what else and currently the resigned acceptance; okay.

    I wrote the paragraph below, April 29, 2019 5:42 am:

    “Do not out-position God thinking you can not do better….that your right now is greater than His way, than this path you’re currently on. Review where you initially felt an offset, an unsettling. God didn’t stop there; why have you? Our insecurities can show up in so many different ways. Trust where you are; embrace the position, the possibilities. His grace leads to so much more. Believe Better. His love is greater.”

    I do find joy in reflecting on my past writings, it gives way to self-wonderment and the depths of growth. I’m looking more within, giving pause. I hold space for Sundays, for my spiritual self and for my writing soul. What keeps you holding space, grounded in your peace?

    Isaiah 43:2: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned; the flames will not consume you.”

    Intimately Worded,

    Michelle

  • July: Healing Humanity

    Our 2020 has gut punched seemingly on a weekly basis. I’m proud of how we’ve endured and persevered. WordPress sent me a congratulatory notification two days ago stating that I have been blogging for 5 years now. Wow! I am appreciative for the courage to share my thoughts in such a creative process. Thank you to all who like, follow, share and comment. I value each of you.

    This year has had me in such a weird place that writing seems foreign to me. I haven’t been neglectful in writing—there just doesn’t seem to be an easy flow of writing to where readers will be empathetic to comprehend my soul pieces. I hope that makes sense. The political disconnect (truthfully it has always been there), CoVid19 continues, Systemic Racism (woundedly, it remains), Police Murders of Black Lives (#GeorgeFloyd) was not the first and the revolutionary resurgence of Black Movement. #BlackLivesMatter

    #Spiritual Wellness…I made major moves this week. I’m doing a lot more focusing on the things I want and requesting those things that I require. I expected some push back on this one request and I didn’t receive it. In a talk w/ a colleague, “Michelle I’m not sure why you expected push back. You are the most sought out therapist here. Look at your location. Every location I visit you’re the only therapist that remains booked. Yeah. No, you’re not going to get any push back.” 

    I looked at her strangely. I didn’t get the big head. I became even more humbled. There are times I have no clue where I am in all this. Oftentimes, I miss me. This week was a Monday’s Monday–every day of the week: I listened to a patient apologize yet defend their idea of “All Lives Matter while Black Lives do not matter.” (Actual words: “Black Lives do not matter.”) The more they talked to their Black Female Therapist, the more racist they sounded. I wrote three individuals out of work—mental health has become an issue for the majority; I was threatened “jokingly” while in session and I reported my first case of child abuse to DSS.

     This ‘work” just doesn’t leave me yet it doesn’t become a part of me either. It all causes me to pause and reflect. I move into gratefulness. I think who I am and how I am leads me toward the moments of difficulty, gives me strength and causes me to recognize where my strength comes from. I think if  I had the ability to shake it or become numb I wouldn’t be who I am as a therapist. I believe serving as a therapist has to be one of the most difficult things I had to do…and become. We’re always becoming, evolving; trying to be better than yesterday. This role as therapist is difficult while being purposefully rewarding; so many pieces of me are required. 

    In my personal reflection, I notice how we neglect ourselves to make ourselves available for other people. One previous Saturday, I woke up unsure if I was getting sick or if I was just worn out–mentally and physically. I was more apt to believe in the first option, that I was getting sick. In wearing these masks my face has begun to breakout, coupled w/ stress I think it’s natural to assume illness. I needed to rest and reset. I’m going to find my space in this. I’m committed to finding my space in this. I continue to make room everyday as well as set new boundaries. I am selfish with my peace.

    I pray that in our moments —those moments that we find difficult to get up that we move towards our wholeness. As we continue to be whole there is no stopping point of movement, of increase. We gain ground. Continue to gain ground. In your grounding: you may have to Reground, Reframe, Reset, Process, Breathe…Love Anyway. 

    Intimately Worded,

    Michelle

  • Singleness Relationships His plans

    Confident

    Human Nature is God created and is the simplest most complex form of co-existing. It seems that relationships are now this big hoo-haw of rules…you have to be, what you should do, do not do that, and then they add in the biblical characters of Boaz, Ruth, then the terms submissiveness, wait and pursue. It kills me, completely. I am not writing to give advice and suggest anything. Just read this with an open-mind and open-heart.

    I want to remind you that finding what you want, being single, while-in-wait is not complicated. It truly will take that one day, the one moment (and you may not ever describe it as perfect but it will be for that moment) that one conversation, that one hello, that one smell of his cologne, his swag,  that one act of chivalry and it happens. There really is no rhyme or reason to it. Even the unexpected friendship that blossoms is a part of it all.

    Stop allowing what “experts” give, sell to you about your life because this is your life, your choice. Honestly, he/she cannot tell you how to be now in order to be dating if they have no clue of the trials you went through or the fiery acts of faith you believed in your past. People change. Mindsets become new. Our environments change. How I am, is due to the things God has allowed in my life and they are blessings. As a single parent of three African American males (two are adult men) and one daughter I have no room in my life to be passive, submissive nor non-intimidating. It just will not work. Yet, I know enough from my Mom, my Daddy, my brothers, my family, those aunts on how to be loving towards a man who holds my interest.

    I have become, am becoming this person, this woman, this loving female not because of my past but in spite of; in spite of all I endured, endure —-because of my relationship with God. There is no doubt in my mind that my intimacy with God has grown me into a woman who is too forward, too passive, too gullible and above all ignorant. He just would not allow it. I am imperfect, perfectly so.  I smile from my soul for who I am. Our walk with Him is personal, it is about growth, it is about healing, and it is about GROWTH! Growth and stagnation does not mesh. God is so much greater. We have to realize that people choose to love or runaway, they choose it. Let them. Their choice does not make you or I less than. The only person that can impede God’s will for your life is you. {Jeremiah 29:11}

    The heavy part of love requires all of you, each of you. Know and believe in your definition of love and you will find the partner that will enhance your definition or have you rewrite your definition with his or her edits. Just proofread first! Be in ready mode. Your heart is bigger than what if. God’s will is grander please believe that.

    I pray God’s grace in whomever you choose to love….and I am so proud of you for where you are today. You have come through so much. Keep your You! It works specifically for all you are connected to.

    Intimately written,

    Michelle